


Not To Me

by rosemary_madness



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: (oh my god and its with a f-ing couch rip), A tiny bit, AND THE COOLEST FUCKING ART BC MY BB PARTNERS ARE THE BEST WOOOOOOO, Action/Adventure, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Book - Freeform, Bullying, Dirty Talk, Dubious Consent, Exhibitionism, Explicit Sexual Content, First Time, Gore, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Improvised Sex Toys, M/M, Masturbation, Mechanophilia, Not Really Character Death, Praise Kink, Rimming, Sexual Humor, Ship, Slow Burn Romance, Temperature Play, Wire Play, and i mean the real nasties with blood not couch feathers flying, and some other stuff i dont remember, bc i can, but lots of sex, fridge, i know wut weird, like buttplugs and vibrators, my stupid humor bc i cant believe i really wrote this, objectophilia, oh my god here we go, oh yeah, sex with a couch, sharing a bed except one of you is the bed :O, stupid object jokes, uhhhh angst, underaged
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-06
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-07-07 15:44:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15911322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosemary_madness/pseuds/rosemary_madness
Summary: Rick Sanchez could never die. Or at least, that’s what Morty thought. After an adventure gone awry, he realizes just how frail the human form is, even for the smartest man in the universe. But when he finally lets go of his grandfather and secret love, he learns that the mind is perhaps a little more resilient. Unknown to the family, Rick’s conscience was stored in a mainframe, hidden away in his underground labs. With implanted chips scattered around the house, he exists as objects within the home, navigating through his new existence and the repressed attraction to his grandson.(AKA a lesson on why you don't joke about couch fucking and be a self-competitive bc you'll end up writing it. Unless that's what you want ;))





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Punk_B1rd](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Punk_B1rd/gifts).



> Oh my god like where do I begin???? Uhhhhh like yeah so I know I write for nasty priests and bloody alphas, but also I guess I wrote object porn now too :O XD I don't know how to feel about it except to laugh at myself and just still deny ~~spending time lying on a couch and figuring out how they'd have sex or staring at the available space in fridges~~ that I put quite a bit of time into this piece.  
> Anyways, like I have no clue of how you want me to preface this except to say that if you are reading this, you are the coolest, craziest motherfucker, and I admire your interests and sense of humor XD  
> Major thing: this is for the 2018 RnM Big Bang and I LOVE MY ARTISTS which are @vanilla-sinner and one half of @creatures-of-de-night on Tumblr!! <3 Please go love them if you miraculously don't already

No matter how far they ran, it somehow managed to keep up, the stinging tendrils nipping at their heels and curling around their ankles, tripping the both of them up and slowing them down. He was far behind Rick, and he was sure that he’d be captured soon, his adrenaline drained from his veins, yet he kept moving.

About a month before, they’d been on a mission to some cybernetic solar system, Tallum Anim, sorting through the ruins of a planet dying from a short circuit. It wasn’t anything too serious, a few corded creatures with huffing valves bothered by other beings in their scavenging area, but beyond that, only the sweltering heat seemed to stand in their way. They’d collected what looked to be garage, but what Rick claimed was the living mind of a multiverse. He’d babbled about all of the experiments and projects he could do with the pieces he didn’t sell, seemingly unaware of his grandson’s admiring stare. He was always attractive when he got excited about something, even if the brunet couldn’t understand a single word.

It’d all gone to shit pretty quick after that, though. Unbeknownst to them until they felt the thing breathing down their backs, the embodiment or mind that Rick spoke so amorously of had attached a beacon to the AI system of the ship. Tracing a thread across the fabric of space, the planet’s manifestation made its way through the galaxy and back to Seattle, right into the Smith home.

That’s where they were now, running through the house and setting off Rick’s protections, all of them as useful as a trap against a clever mouse. Morty didn’t know whether to be more terrified of the fact that an entire planet was against them or that the defenses of the smartest man in the universe were futile to stop it.

They’d made their way out of the garage and through the kitchen, lungs burning as they crawled up stairs, electricity bubbling in their blood as they were whipped by the wires humming with energy. If his senses weren’t drowned out by the will to survive, he’d have noticed the blood pooling beneath them as the plugs stabbed them and dragged down their flesh, trying to latch on and pull the two of them back.

“Get to my room, Morty!” He heard; his thudding heart almost washing the sound out. He didn’t know if he could make it, and frankly, he was starting to worry Rick wouldn’t either.

His grandfather was off behind him, laid flat on his back as his cybernetic replacement arm began shooting rockets at the beast. It was a mess of coiled wires forming a four-pedal body, green coolant seeping from its skin and sizzling on it’s overheating body. The teeth were made of jagged scrap metal, and the whipping tail that had been attacking them was swiveling in the air, ready to strike. The smell of their burning blood on the hot circuity made Morty dry heave as he struggled to look away, unable to leave his grandfather but powerless to help in the attack.

“Stupid, weak-ass, people-loving bitch, get the fuck out of here!” Rick growled, shooting a rocket in Morty’s direction, his aim misdirected as the metal arm was picked up, throwing the struggling scientist from wall to wall.

Morty was thrown by the explosion, his ears ringing and vision blurred as stucco from the walls powdered around him. He couldn’t even hear his own scream when he saw the wires tangle around Rick, stabbing his gaunt form and making him convulse with the obscene amount of voltage running through him. The boy could see Rick screaming, face contorted with pain as he struggled against the grip, body going limp after a few minutes.

Seeming to be content with the outcome, the creature dropped Rick onto the floor and slithered out of the room, leaving Morty to claw his way back over to his grandfather.

He could still feel his lungs burning, the cries reverberating through the boy but not making it into his ringing ears. His grandpa was a broken mess, limbs mangled and bloody holes dug deep into his shattered frame. Some of them were even closed, the heat of the creature cauterizing wounds and charring skin.  

“Rick, Rick, please ge-get up!” He wasn’t sure if that’s what actually came out, but that's what his mind was begging the man to do. He couldn’t be dead. Rick Sanchez didn’t die.

\---

\---

Despite everything he’d been told, all of the assurance he’d been given, and speeches he’d sat through about the immortality of Rick Sanchez, the man now lied before him, everything save his scowling face concealed as he remained lifeless in the casket.

It couldn’t have been a worse day if the entire multiverse converged against them and attacked right now. There was no more danger, the wounds and house were (mostly) mended, and his parents were back together, but it was raining.

Rick had always told Morty that rain was the sure sign of a shitty day. The conditions made it impossible for the scientist to get important projects done that required natural light or extra work space outside. He’d hated rainy days, and that’s what he got when he was laid to rest, buried in the dirt to be forgotten like all the other people of the planet. How could Rick let this happen?

It was idiotic, but instead of waiting for an answer, Morty was waiting for Rick to call bullshit and come back. He’d been hoping for that ever since he’d looked at him shattered on the floor, body broken beyond even multidimensional repair. It just wasn’t Rick to… die. Despite being reminded on every adventure that life can end without a moment’s notice, Morty had expected his grandfather to bypass that rule. But he was wrong. It’d been a week later, and the man was still unmoved, body hollowed out and embalmed to maintain itself until the maggots would break through the case and claim another person to fertilize the earth.

The casket lid shut with a resounding snap, the lock clicking together, and Rick cut off from view for the last time. He was actually dead.

His heart hurt with every step away, pulse pounding with each slide of the belts lowering his grandfather into the ground. And they were all crying, even Jerry, though Morty wasn’t sure if that was to garner more sympathy from Beth or to express his joy for having the true leader of the house out of his way. He couldn’t care less about the reason, or any of them at the moment. At the end of the day, they were all still alive, and Rick was still dead.

It was a near silent car ride, the quiet only interrupted by the pattering rain and the sound of his mother and sister sniffling. Morty wanted to wait until they got home to let the true emotion show, his mourning stifled by the binds of societal norms and expectations. Of course he was allowed to be sad about the death, even miserable, but not heartbroken. And that’s exactly how he felt.

Moving on autopilot back into the house, now almost repaired to its original form, the boy went straight to the couch in the living room, not wanting to follow all of the others upstairs as they decided to mourn in their rooms. Out here, he had the most privacy allowed to him. Beth was drunk off her ass, finishing barrels of wine throughout the week, Jerry was attached to her hip and cooing about tragedy and moving past it to a happier family, and Summer was either isolating herself in her room or running off with her friends to cope with the pain in the only way she knew how. None of them had ever been good at handling their emotions.

Hearing all of the doors slammed shut, the cries muffled through the wood, Morty turned on the television, flipping it to a random interdimensional show and finally letting himself fall apart. He’d held onto a strand of hope that’d he’d come back, revive the zany norm in the blink of eye, and only now did it become clear to the boy that that would never happen.

Hot, angry tears fell from his eyes, and he felt his body begin to shake with the raw emotion, his breath coming out strangled as he tried to cling to sanity.  

He hated Rick for getting them into this shit, for endangering their lives and destroying their home, but mostly for making Morty care and miss the damn bastard for leaving him behind. He’d promised 100 years, and now they’d only had three. Goddamn it, he loved him.

It’d started out small, just a simple infatuation with the long lost genius that shimmied his way into their lives. With his deep and steady voice, the brilliant hero perfectly described impossible inventions and the whimsy of the universe that hooked Morty from the first breath. And then as they spent more time together, the boy began to see that his grandfather was not the amazing role model that his mother spoke of, watching that ideal perception wane with the realization that Rick was a dark man who’d seen some dark things and done even more of them. The boy learned that the man was flawed, being a chronic alcoholic, an even better liar, and the biggest criminal in the whole damn galaxy. But that only made him more interesting.

He’d heard tales of the blood Rick reaped throughout the universe, of the cosmos he’d destroyed out of spite or to obtain something that’d fetch a pretty penny. And with time, Morty got to see it for himself, watching as the man’s teeth drew into a snarling mess, and his spidering fingers carved up his prey to perfection. It was horrifying and disgusting, but, and he would never admit this, it made the boy feel special.

He’d seen the pain his grandfather could deal out, and sometimes felt it when the man’s mood was foul and Morty seemed to grate on it just the right way, but he never left anything but a whispered warning. Despite all of the times he’d threatened to throw the boy away, Rick always came back for him, always got him home, and always kept him safe, or bandaged back to normalcy. His grandfather had the ability to wipe him off of the the face of the Earth, erase every sign of him even from people’s very conscience, but instead he kept him around. He dragged him off on wonderous, and sometimes awful, adventures, taught him the ways of the galaxy, and was the boy’s friend when everybody else chose to forget him.

Before Morty knew it, he fell in love. Of course, he was still annoyed by the man’s antics, towing him out of bed and out of school, or embarrassing him in front of other people, but at the end of the day, he’d put up with it for Rick. Looking at those glacial eyes light up when he saw something fascinating or funny, hearing his laugh when he was drunk, or feeling his weathered hand against his back as he directed the boy out of danger made it all worth it. And he’d left, taking everything but those memories with him.

The brunet curled into the corner of the sofa, pulling his knees up to his chest and letting the tears continue to fall from his burning cheeks, feeling himself grow exhausted with all of the emotion. He was on the edge of sleep, stare fluttering closed in defeat, when he heard a familiar theme song play.

Ball Fondlers was on, and his eyes flew open, looking at the flurry of action that began to unfold and thinking back to watching it with Rick.

They watched a lot of television together, one of Morty’s favorites with how close they got to be, sharing their warmth as they sat pressed together on the couch. The feel of Rick’s arm nipping at the back of his neck would always send pangs of excitement down to Morty’s crotch, making him squirm awkwardly. Rick would often think it was Morty being uncomfortable with the graphic violence, and to soothe him, he’d run a hand through his hair, nails grazing against his scalp and making it hard for him to focus on the plot. Just the thought of it made him half hard now, his breath hitching for an entirely different reason.

They’d watched this one a dozen times, and as it was the most violent of the franchise, Rick would instinctively muss the boy’s curls and look down at him with shimmering eyes. He’d laugh and tell Morty to stop being a pussy, nudging his shoulder and locking eyes more than a few times to gauge the reaction. Fuck, it got Morty more worked up than watching even the best porn he’d seen.

Maybe it was his missing him, or his mind making a desperate attempt at distraction to cope, but he couldn’t help resting his hand over the tent of his pants, fingers stroking slowly like it would make the fact of him masturbating to his dead grandfather any less real.

He looked off to the kitchen and hall, making sure he didn’t hear footsteps before sliding the belt off and easing his erection out of his constrictive dress pants. Glancing back at the screen, he remembered the time when Rick was drunk off his ass, watching the movie as he rested his head on Morty’s shoulder, hair tickling at the boy’s throat and collar. To make it worse, the couch still smelled like Rick, bathed in bourbon, aftershave, and machine oil that drew out the scent of musk better than aphrodisiacs the man bragged about trying.

Morty felt like he was drowning in Rick, reliving the collection of moments all at once, a small whine escaping his lips as he felt the precum beading from his tip. Fuck, he was horny, feeling cradled in the warmth of Rick’s lab coat as he lied down on the worn sofa. He moved his hand quickly, trying to reach the top of the pleasure and forget the pain of the day, letting his nails nip at the tender skin as he kept moving.

“Oh--fuck, Rick,” He ground out, bucking his hips into his hand and sliding the rest of the way out of the gray trousers, dipping his other hand into the thin underwear.

He’d always wondered what it’d feel like for his grandpa to fuck him, his prostate receiving ample attention as his expert grandfather pounded into him. From the time he saw Rick axe through his Operation Phoenix lab, blind bloodlust running through the crazed scientist, he’d remembered how well-endowed he’d been. Morty also knew the man had more than a few piercing that would add to the experience; his nipples pierced and pert when the boy could see them through the lab coat, and his thick length endowed with a Prince Albert that he was positive would leave him writhing in need.

Vaguely hearing it through the haze of his raging pleasure, Morty listened to the movie feed into his fantasy and memories, coating his index and middle finger in slick before pushing them past the tight ring of muscle, legs splaying open as one draped over the back cushion and the other fell to the cold wood floor. He arched his back, head thrown as he felt the muscles contract around the digits. It was painful without lube, but he’d always imagined sex with Rick being rough and fast, so he let it play into that part of the fantasy.

“Please, grandpa…!” Morty’s fingers dipped in deeper, grazing over that sensitive spot before the entrance greedily took him two knuckles deep. He cursed himself for having small hands, his fingers never able to replicate the overwhelming feeling that Rick’s cock would give him, stretching his pink hole, and making the boy cry with hot pleasure.

Sliding back, he fumbled to swipe over the prostate again, pulling all of the way out and whimpering as he felt his ring of muscle shrink and contract. Needing to feel at least a painful and sloppy taste of what his grandfather could give him, he thrust his fingers back inside, including a third as he created a jagged pace with his desperate strokes. He was getting close to the orgasm, imaging Rick above him and praising him for taking his big cock so well. Wanting that praise and the promise of release, he threw his hips forward and let his hands move freely in their tasks, turning his head into the cushion as he felt himself clench in time with the release streaking his clean pressed shirt.

Closing his eyes to focus on the afterglow of the orgasm, mind addled with hot pleasure, Morty didn’t notice as the couch beneath him began to move, each of the springs coiling and teetering through the gaps of stuffing.

“What the fuck, Morty! Did you-you-you just jizz on me?? You fucking horny brat! Can’t even keep it in your pants after my funeral?”

If the armrest didn’t lace tight around the boy’s lips, he would have screamed, only staying on the couch as it worked to hold him in place. Did he just… Was that… Rick? It couldn’t be. There was no fucking way in the world, in the multiverse that his grandfather could be alive. And sure as hell, there was no such thing as ghosts, especially not for people like Rick. Turning to face the television again, he noted there was no one around him. He was probably just crazy, right? Sadness was known to do weird things to the mind.

“Did you hear me, you little bastard?! Keep it in your pants at least for-until you can get to your room.”

Letting out a muffled scream, the seat cushions curled up and turned Morty, making him face the back rest, and Rick’s face staring back at him, adjusted for the size of the cushion.

“Awe yuu ffkn cwzy!!” He tried to protest, unsure if he was speaking to himself about believing this or the face for having the audacity to exist.

“I can’t hear you and refuse to until I know you’ll shut the fuck up,” It growled, tightening its fabric constraint around the boy, brow pulled into a tight line and those oh so familiar eyes glaring into his blinking brown ones.

He nodded fiercely, just wanting to be allowed to breathe again, at the very least. And after a few moments, the cloth pulled away, only to coil tight around Morty when he started to scream again.

“Wha-what did I tell you? Shut the fuck up, Morty! You went to a chair dimension for god’s sake! Besides, they’ll all just think you’re being the pussy that you are and crying.” A spring snapped up and smacked the boy’s already bruised calf to emphasize the point, leaving a welt on the bare skin.

Squeaking and squirming with the hit, his eyes widened and he nodded again, his covered voice promising to stay quiet this time.

“Who the fuck are you, and why do you sound like my grandpa?” He shrieked under his breath, remembering his clothes and giving himself fabric burn as he pulled them up too quickly, underwear half on and pants still unzipped. Feeling the eyes on him, he had to look away for a moment, gathering the guts to peer back and ascertain the answer for himself.

“What does it look like, idiot? It’s me, grandpa Rick, in the fabric. You do--You didn’t actually think I’d be gone for good, did you?”

Deaf to the jokes, insults, and total ignorance of the question, Morty brought a hand just above the makeshift mouth, big enough to swallow him, and punched the stuffing as hard as he could.

“Tell me what the fuck is going on, or I’m gonna burn this house down.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thats right folks, the fun continues XD

The tears were flowing freely again, a surge of too many emotions coursing through the teen as he squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head. This couldn’t be happening.

He’d thought of every possible scenario for Rick coming back: climbing right out of the coffin, walking out of a portal from another dimension, and even showing up on the desk again as a stupid pickle. This, this fucking couch though, this wasn’t anticipated.

“Jesus, you punch me after I’ve died? That’s low, even for you--”

“Shut the fuck up, Rick, or who-whoever you are. My word still stands. I won’t hesitate to punch you again you--”

“You said you’d burn the house down not--”

Fwump.

Morty threw his fist at the couch again, still unable to look at those eyes as he hit the cushions like a madman.

“I’ll burn it down, if you don’t cooperate. Now start talking.” He scowled at the armrest, watching as it unwrinkled itself out after being balled in Morty’s fist.

He was in no mood for games, and if he couldn’t get answers then he was sure to act without thinking, though he felt like he was already doing that, talking to a couch that gave him delusions of his grandfather.

“Je-Jesus, Morty, okay. I’m a couch. It’s that simple.” Rick seemed unfazed, tone just as nonchalant as before, the couch smoothing itself out the only difference. If he wasn’t dazed from an orgasm, Morty probably would have been more creeped out.  

“Okay… So-so when do you turn back into… you?”

He heard Rick laugh, the sinister, unhinged sort of rumble that the boy had never liked as much as the kind sounding one. None of his words seemed off or out of character though. Could this really be Rick? And could they go back to the way things were now that the man had had his fun?

“This is me now, Morty,” He said more seriously. “Well, not just the couch, because I--you’re grandpa is not a fuckin’ moron. Think of me as all of the objects in the house. I’m object Rick!! Instead of just a-a pickle, I’m a fucking pimp now and can switch between almost anything I want here.” Illustrating his point, Morty felt the couch go still and the coffee table blink before Rick stared back at him, the drawer acting as a makeshift mouth.

\---

\---

“Oh God… Oh God… No way.” This was impossible. There was no way someone could do this, well someone besides Rick Sanchez. It really must be his dead grandfather. That still didn’t explain how all of this worked though. Rick was killed out of the blue, not after a concerted effort of the scientist’s to become the next monster house.

“You honestly doubt me? _The_ Rick Sanchez? You know how that works out, Morty.”

“I fucking hate you.”

Morty was done with this shit. The man he mourned, the man he loved, was a fucking couch, house, or whatever the fuck, and he didn’t even have the decency to address the pain that the family had to go through on his behalf. Sure, he wanted to see his grandfather again, but not like this.

His body trembled with anger, feeling among other things, betrayed by Rick.

“We-We fucking buried you, cleaned up the house after the-that fiasco, and I had to watch you die before my very eyes, and you’re just gonna sit here and-and act like nothing happened? How fucking dare you.” He was seething, teeth grinding together and knuckles pale as he tried to hold back more of the tears that threatened to spill. “Fuck you, Rick.”

His grandfather stayed silent, though Morty could feel his gaze still locked on his side. This was just too much, and Morty felt like he’d been lied to about his worst fear, the result of which was manifesting now to taunt him, jab him in the gut for being naive enough to worry about death taking his loved ones away.

“Did you even die?” He found himself asking, trying to take a breath. “Or was that just-just another Rick Sanchez lie to show how stupid we all are for giving a shit about you?”

Still silence from the other. Morty was beginning to think again about this being a figment of his imagination and finally turned to verify that the table was still staring back at him, a dark look in the shattered ice eyes. He figured there couldn’t be too much of a threat without his body, but the boy still felt that familiar worry that came with the onset of the scientist’s mood swings.

“I died, Morty. Jesus,” Rick said without the lilting jest in his voice. “My genius brain,” He enunciated, “Is downloaded onto a mainframe of sorts in one of my labs, and it connects my-my fuckin’ consciousness to the objects of the house, okay?”

The boy nodded, looking between the floor and the table, still unable to lock eyes with the other. He was upset with his grandfather, but at least the scientist was trying to be reasonable now. Maybe, just maybe they could make this work out.

“So… What am I supposed to do then?”

“Whatever you want, kiddo. Just don’t tell you-your parents or sister that I’m here, got it?”

Morty couldn’t imagine why that would be a stipulation, thinking it was unfair to keep the others in the dark, but maybe it was also to keep them protected. The truth was hard to swallow, much like the death that came before it. And with how much he struggling with this after all he’d seen, he could imagine this wouldn’t go down so well for his family.

“Alright, Rick… I’m still mad at you though, so don’t go pulling stupid shit like waking me up in bed.

“Oh, I don’t have access to your room! That-that one’s off-limits actually, so lucky you,” Rick quickly assured him, offering a small smile and looking off behind Morty.

“Well, your deadbeat dad is coming downstairs, so I’m out of here.”

Morty was too late to catch him and get another word in, unsure of when and where his grandfather would manifest next. Hearing Jerry walking down the stairs, he turned back to his disheveled clothes, fixing his pants and unbuttoning his shirt, sitting in his tank top when his father came in, a veiled smile on his face.

“Hey, Morty! You doing alright, buddy? I know Rick meant _something_ to all of us, but we’re gonna be okay now. Your mom and I are really back together, and the four of us are gonna find a way to pull through, without good ole grandpa Rick.”

He wasn’t listening, knowing the whole thing was a speech about how everyone should move on because Jerry did. As much as he was upset with his grandfather and the way he came back, it still peeved the teen that his dad made the whole event so casual. Sure, he’d gotten some shitty pranks from the scientist, but he was still family to them and protected all of them when it came down to it.

“Sure, dad… I’m gonna go change, and then I’ll help with dinner.”

As Beth dropped further into alcoholism, Morty found himself trying to pick up more chores and duties around the house. At least it gave him something else to think about, prevented people from fighting over things not getting done, and made it easier for his mother that he knew was in a lot of pain.

“Way to be! I think it’s great you’re trying to work through this. Before you know it, you’ll be back to school like a normal kid, I’ll have a job, and your sister will be graduating from high school. Finally, we’ll get to be a normal family.”

He was long gone before he heard what was being said, calling out that that was nice to make Jerry feel better about himself before dodging into his room and feeling like he could finally breathe again. At least here, he could be alone and honest with himself about the situation. Gathering the other laundry strewn about his room into a basket, he sat on the bed, shuddering as he thought about the hell that was this whole week, today being the icing on the cake.

There was no way they could be a normal family, not with all of them broken in their own ways, least of all Rick whose physical form now laid buried away from the mind that made him famous.

Maybe he did it because he didn’t want people getting their hands on it, or perhaps he wanted to keep an eye on the family. Probably not though… If Morty knew Rick, the scientist likely wanted to prove that he could cheat death and rub it in his face. As much as the boy loved him, he knew his grandfather never felt that deep of emotion and empathy, and certainly not about his wimpy grandson.

Torn from his thoughts by the sound of a shattering glass in the room down the hall, Morty picked his laundry back up and made his way downstairs, starting the wash cycle and going into the kitchen to see what he could salvage for dinner.

Beth hadn’t been shopping since the incident, too drunk and distraught to even go to work, so the job had been left to Jerry who grabbed items at random that never mixed together quite right. Seeing the ground beef and the half finished bottle of pasta sauce, Morty got to work making spaghetti and meatballs for the fourth day in a row.

As time went on, the pasta finishing and the cooked meatballs going into the sauce, each of the family members trickled down to the kitchen to grab a plate and wait at the dining room table for the food to be brought out. It’d be nice to have some help, but the boy also knew that his mother and sister didn’t like to be seen crying, so he understood why they stayed out of the kitchen and his general space.

“Sorry it’s uh… the same as the other days,” He mumbled, bringing out the pan and setting it on top of the knit potholder that was supposedly from his grandmother.

“Don’t worry about it, Morty.” Beth gave a small smile as she tipped her wineglass back, thanking him for helping out around the house before they had a quiet meal.

All of Jerry’s attempts at conversation were shut down, either from Beth telling him to shut up or Summer and Morty staying silent as they looked down at their phones or twirled the noodles around their plates.

Morty had no appetite, regardless of not eating since the last night, any urge to eat curbed with thoughts of Rick sitting next to him at the table and telling him about the next grand adventure they had, or the harsh reminder that his grandfather would more likely be the table than show up to eat at it now.

Managing to get Summer to load the dishwasher for him, Morty near ran up to his room, away from his family’s eyes and the gaze of his grandfather. He’d already finished all of the assigned makeup work through the week, needing something to keep him from crying, and he didn’t want to watch porn or look at his phone any more than he wanted to clean his room, so he found the half empty case of sleeping pills and climbed into bed, not bothering to change again or brush his teeth.

The day had been long enough already.

\---

When he was sure that Morty was asleep, his breathing sounding slow from the carpet outside the door, Rick let his consciousness slither under the crack and up to the lamp leaning over the boy’s bed. He could see that he was tossing and turning, a few stray groans and whines escaping his lips as he sought rest. Of course, the large case of pills wasn’t lost on him, and the man watched the boy with worried eyes. He could only hope that Morty wouldn’t go down the path of addiction as he did.  

He knew he should have been more couth, or at least turned the jokes down a level, but he didn’t know how else to break the news to Morty. Although he was a genius, the scientist was aware he lacked the skills to help someone in a dismal situation. After all, he spent most of his life drowning his problems in liquor to the point of losing taste, but that wasn’t the issue right now.

The issue was that he hurt Morty, even more than he already had, just by being a jackass and deciding to spring on him like he did. Peeking out of the crumpled covers, he could still see the fresh welt he’d left on the boy’s calf with his little outburst. He really needed to get a better grip on his strength and movement for each of the objects.

He planned to wait a little longer, give his grandson the proper amount of time to at least adjust to the situation, but when he heard him crying out in pleasure, his soft skin running over the fabric of the couch, he couldn’t help but show up to witness the beauty of Morty’s orgasm. He’d only seen it once or twice, and especially after a week of solid crying and whining, Rick was eager to see the boy go slack jaw with desire rather than resigned fatigue. And it was worth it, until he ruined it by running his mouth. He didn’t hear Morty calling out his name as he worked at his growing pleasure, but he still felt unprepared to speak to Morty after a sight like that, so he panicked.

Watching him from the kitchen, and now back in his room, he kicked himself over and over for that stupid mistake. He was Rick fucking Sanchez, and yet he didn’t know how to talk to his goddamn grandson just because he got a little hot and bothered.

“Stop… Please.” He heard Morty whimper in his sleep, his feet kicking away the covers.

The kid said he hated him. That’s how badly he’d messed up. Morty never said he hated someone, always looking for the bright side like that Pollyanna bullshit. And yet, the boy said it to him. Despite whatever predictions he might’ve had for Morty’s reaction, that was not one of them. Maybe he’d grumble that the scientist was a bastard and call him out on his shit for toying with him, but it just didn’t seem to be in the boy’s nature to hate him, especially when the days before had been flooded with tears and cries of lost opportunity. Best case scenario, he thought the kid would be ecstatic, worst case scenario, he was upset for a day until he realized that he essentially had his grandpa back.

But Morty was right, something Rick would never admit out loud. He’d been an asshole, and his actions were uncalled for, though if it were anyone else, he wouldn’t give two shits about that.

 _“I fucking hate you.”_ Shit, he’d need to make it up to him, poorly as was the Rick way, but he’d have to do it, and fast if he was going to get back on his grandson’s good side. However much he could hide it, he’d never be able to change the fact that he loved Morty, a lot.

Taking a final glance at the restless teenager, looking over forgotten bandages the kid didn’t think to change, and the way his oak eyes skittered through a dream, Rick finally left Morty alone, retreating back to the core. Tomorrow, he’d make things right.


	3. Chapter 3

Another week passed, and Morty still hadn’t seen Rick again. If the event wasn't so painful to see and feel, the boy would've gone back to believing the surprise visit was a fevered fantasy, just like the memories that clawed into his mind and begged to be sated right then and there. 

With life starting to fall back into its mundane places, it was almost easy to give into that conclusion. 

After two weeks of being away, he was back at school, getting his life together. Or that’s how most people would view it. For him, it fet grossly out of character, even though it’s what he’d begged Rick to have from the beginning. He’d never been a solid attendant at school, skipping a couple of lessons a week to go on more adventures or errands with is grandfather. And now, he’d been to every class, every day, for an entire week. 

It didn’t appear that way for Morty or his entire school though. Through all of his classes, the boy’s mind wandered, always coming back to the subject of his lost grandfather. He might as well have been at home and receiving makeup work, because he was learning nothing except that he was not accepted by the school. 

No one talked to him, not even to repeat the condolences that the teachers gave him before collecting his work. It was like he didn’t exist, just as he told his grandfather was the case. However, the realization of said fact was heightened in the current situation, having no danger to avoid or impromptu trips to Blitz N Chitz to distract him. 

He knew he wasn’t popular, or even had any friends to text and hang out with, but he’d at least like to exist to these other people. As he stumbled through the walkways, he passed people he’d sat next to in various classes or ones he’d seen at lunch, yet there was no glimmer of recognition or even a need to recognize him, all of the other teenagers continuing their discussions about the party there was tonight, open invite. 

Making his way down the fluorescent-flushed hall and over to his locker, he finally caught someone’s eye. Summer happened to see him as she grabbed her backpack, nodding before turning back to her friends and making the laugh that Morty knew was fake. He supposed they all had their methods for coping with pain…

With the toll of the bell for next period, the brunet scuttled into the classroom, finding his seat in the back of the room and pulling out his notebooks and folders, hoping he might have a chance at focus just once before the weekend. 

“Are you going to the party at Elaine’s house? Y’know, Jessica will be there.” 

His head snapped in the direction of the voice, thinking someone might actually be addressing him and feeling his heart beat a little faster. 

“Yeah, of course! And you know she’s still dating Brad. I’m not gonna butt in on that...” 

Feeling his face flush, he turned back away, realizing that the girl next to him was talking to Jonathan, the boy that sat on the opposite side of his desk. 

It hurt more than he thought to see that he’d been wrong, neither of the students looking at him or asking him about the party, opting to talk around him instead of just including him for a moment. Not that he could blame them… It’s not like he ever started conversations outside of clarification for questions, so maybe they thought he wanted to be left alone. 

\---

“You should come to the party tonight, Morty.” 

He threw his backpack into the backseat and looked out the window, unable to come up with a reason not to go other than the reality. It felt nice to be invited by his sister, but he knew he wasn’t truly wanted there by anyone, if they even remembered to not want him in the first place. Besides, he still hadn’t heard from Rick since the day of the funeral… What if he decided to show up again while he was gone? 

“No thanks… Parties aren’t really my thing.” 

Reaching the stop light, Summer looked over at him with a sympathetic smile and turned down the music on the radio. It’s not like they never spoke to each other, but Morty was pretty surprised to have eye contact with his sister after they both closed themselves off. 

“I know it’s been hard, but you have to let loose and breathe sometimes. Maybe you’ll make some friends, have fun. Don’t shoot it down just because it’s different, okay?” She kept her eyes on his, trying to look casual, though her gaze shone with worry and concern. 

“I don’t know, Summer…” 

“C’mon, Morty! It’s down the street, so you can leave whenever you want to and go home early, if you really need to.” 

Considering he had no reason that his sister would accept, he conceded, looking down to his lap as he swallowed and nodded. 

“Alright. I guess it could be fun... “ 

“Boo ya, bro! There will be drinks too, and I’m not gonna snitch if you need something after this week.” 

Finishing the short drive back to their house, Morty went along with it, acting like he had hope for a fun and interesting night at this party. He knew that wouldn’t happen of course, positive he’d leave after fifteen minutes, but if it made his sister feel better, then he’d try. 

When they walked back inside, their parents were already gone. Beth was at work, Jerry was at an interview, and a meal was in the crockpot for the kids, the others opting to meet for a date as soon as their tasks were done. It almost made Morty sad that the chores were done, leaving him with little to occupy his hands and mind with. Having no other options, he slouched down onto one of the kitchen chairs and started doing his homework. 

He was shitty at learning, especially math, but at least it was a different stress point than wondering when his grandfather would come back or thinking about the bandages still wrapped around his arms and legs. However, determining the amplitude of sin and cosin could only keep him busy for so long. After only four hours, he’d watched lesson videos, completed the trig worksheet, wrote his lackluster essay for English, and read the five new chapters of  _ The Scarlet Letter _ , finishing all of his homework for the weekend. 

“Morty, you better get ready soon. I’ll be back to get you in an hour,” Summer told him, grabbing the keys off the counter before turning off the cooker, dashing out the door to pick up her other friends. 

It would be the perfect moment for Rick to show up, now that the teen was all alone in the house and had little else to do. Shoving everything back into his jumbled backpack, Morty waited for a few minutes more, tapping his fingers on the kitchen table as if to signal he was ready to talk. Gauging the time again, he sighed and climbed up the stairs, turning on the shower and looking for an outfit to change into. 

Maybe if he just tried a little harder, he could have a good time, he told himself. He’d never been assertive, so maybe if he showed that he wanted to make conversation and meet people, he could have a few friends by the end of the the night. He hoped that could be the case at least. He didn’t know how much longer he could go on at school like this. 

Massaging the soap into the skin, careful of his healing injuries, he did his best to clean up and smell nice, make himself at least a little more physically appealing to people. He’d picked out his favorite flannel shirt, and his jeans that actually fit right, wobbling out of the tub and into a towel, ruffling his hair to give it some more life. 

Perhaps if he just put more thought into his looks, people would find something in the scrawny kid to not laugh at. Deciding not to rewrap his wounds, he went straight to pulling on the pants and buttoning the top, feeling the fabric grate against the welt on his thigh and scattered cuts over his skin. After running a little gel through his curls, and spraying on some cheap cologne he thought was nice, he smiled back at the mirror, crossing his fingers it would be good enough. 

“I’m outside,” His phone showed over the cracked lock screen, indicating it was time to go. 

Taking one last look in the mirror to verify there were no major flaws, he skittered down the stairs and out the door, deciding to eat after he’d get back. 

“You look nice, bro!” 

Smiling a little, he nodded his thanks and climbed into the backseat, cramming in with Summer’s friends that lived farther away from the party. It seemed silly to drive so far for others when they lived closest to the party, but again, he knew the point was to ignore the pain and decided to leave his sister alone. She paid for all of the gas anyways. 

It was only a two minute drive over to the house, most of the time spent just looking for a place to park, and Morty trying to avoid the knot in his chest from the teeming anxiety. What if he didn’t have a good time? What if people just--

No. He was going to try and enjoy this, socialize, and get his mind off of his dead grandfather at least for one night. Taking a deep breath and straightening his posture, he followed the others into the house and resisted the urge to cringe at all of the noise. 

“Hey, Summer! Ethan, what the fuck is up, dude? Is that Candace? Bitch, you actually came!” 

As Morty made his way into the house behind his sister and her other senior friends, his heart threatened to beat out of chest. Everyone was getting some kind of response or introduction as they made their way into the living room, people coming up to them and hugging them or giving  a high five before talking about inside jokes and alcohol. And yet, when he made his way past the older kids and closer to the posse of other sophomore’s, there was no response, no turning eyes, and nothing except the gossip surrounding the cool older kids. 

He could already feel his resolve fading with the reaction, or lack thereof, looking down at the floor before he convinced himself to take another risk and be assertive. 

“H-Hey, Brayden. Long time no see, huh?” He near whispered, scared that he was saying all the wrong things. How did Rick make talking look so easy and charming? 

“Oh, hey… Morty? I didn’t think you would come,” The taller, dark-haired boy responded, looking at his friends before eyeing Morty up and taking a sip of his drink. 

Maybe the guy was just drunk… And it really had been a long time since they’d sat together in Freshman English. Starting with new people might have been a better idea. 

“Yeah, me neither, but I guess I’m here, heh… Anyways, have a nice night.” 

The other offered a small wave, turning back to his friends and laughing about some joke, or him, while Morty walked away and over to greet a girl who just walked into the party. He’d never seen her before, so maybe she was looking for someone to talk to, too. 

“Hey, are you--” 

“Not interested? Yes. I’m walking over to my boyfriend right now.” 

Fumbling out an apology, he darted in a different direction, ignoring the alcohol table and group of people grinding against each other, to retreat to a secluded corner of the room. When he closed his eyes to breathe through the stress and think of something to talk himself away from the door, someone began speaking to him instead. 

“Hey, Morty!” 

It was one of the seniors, someone he’d seen over only a few times to hang out with his sister. His name was Chase...? 

“Hey… dude!” 

Coming to lean against the wall with him, he smiled down at Morty and pushed the blond hair out of his green eyes, something behind them that Morty couldn’t translate. 

“You’re Summer’s brother! The one who’s always sick or missing? I think I’ve seen you around a few times.” 

It wasn’t the kind of reputation he’d hoped to have around the school, but at least someone knew him and was willing to talk to him, even with excitement. Sorting through the mental notecards he had for making conversation, he tried to smile back and nodded quickly. 

“Yeah! She-She’s my sister alright. You’ve been over a few times, rig--” 

“Yep! I think your sister is super cool, and since I know the two of you are close, and you’re a cool dude, I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind putting in the good word for me?” 

So that’s why he was talking to him. He wanted to get to Summer and was too much of a pussy to bring it up to her or consider the fact she was somewhat dating Ethan still. Taking a stuttering breath, he looked down at his loose shoelaces and started walking away. 

“Sorry. I can’t do that. She’s already got a boyfriend anyways…” 

“Whatever, Morty! Just, tell her I said hi!” 

“So who are you thinking of asking to the dance?” A girl in his age said to her group of friends, all sitting on the floor and raising their brows at one another as they talked about their picks for the girls ask guy dance that Morty had forgotten about. 

“I was gonna ask Brad, but Jessica already asked him. I feel like everybody’s got a date, and there’s no one left to ask!” 

“Well, what about Jason?” 

“Yep, going with Janie from our history class.” 

“Well, you could always ask that kid Morty?” 

The brunet stopped in his retreat, staying off to the side, so they wouldn’t catch him eavesdropping. 

“Ha ha, very funny. I’m taller than him, he doesn’t even talk, and I don’t even know if he still goes to our school anymore. No way.” 

All of the others in the little circle began laughing and agreeing, driving Morty straight from feeble hope to broken despondency. Knowing he couldn’t hold on any longer, he ran for the drinks table, picking up a plastic cup of beer and pouring some Fireball inside. 

It hurt like fuck to drink that cinnamon shit acid down, but he needed something to smack him in the face and distract him from the painful situation, glad that he didn’t have the tolerance of his grandfather as he flopped straight into a buzz. 

He could still feel the ache in his chest with all of the words and encounters clanging around in his head, and he reached for another random bottle of liquor, adding more than a shot into his cup before shooting it back and feeling some of it climb into his nose. He was utterly fucked, and his insides were squirming uncomfortably with the alcohol trickling into his empty stomach. He should’ve eaten before he came. 

Feeling the emotional hurt intensified rather than dulled with each new drink, Morty pulled away with the mere sound of girls laughing, unable to think it was anything but excitement at his crumpling psyche. He supposed it was a shitty mercy of sorts, as he needed to stop drinking to avoid puking on the floor and embarrassing his sister for bringing her lightweight brother to a otherwise fun party. But it did nothing to stimulate that good ole liquid courage he should’ve earned minutes before.

Making one last attempt to feel it and have even one moment of that “fun high school experience,” He mindlessly stumbled over to Jessica now entering the house, choking on the flavor or alcohol as he opened his mouth to speak. 

“Could you please get out of the way, Morty? You’re gonna slobber on my dress.” 

With that, he officially snapped, his stomach churning and his lungs heaving as he pushed past her for the door, feeling tears sting his cheeks against the chill of an autumn night. He was such a fuckup, a fuckup that meant nothing to anyone except a kid to make everyone feel better about what they were doing. 

Bursting through the front door of his home and grabbing the garbage can from the side of the room, Morty fell flat on his ass in front of the couch and began sobbing, frame shaking as he threw up the meager contents of his stomach and the acid that came with it. 

He hated himself for getting into this shit, for thinking he could be more than he was, but mostly for making the effort to look nice and try, believing just a for a moment that people gave a shit about him besides his grandfather who died to protect him. Damn it, he hated himself. 

“You look shitty when you’re hammered.”   


Morty believed it to be another figment of his imagination, a desperate ploy to instill hope in himself that he wasn’t alone. Having nothing else to lose, he just went with it and spoke like it was his grandfather stumbling in behind him, plopping onto the couch and looking for a show that both of them liked.  

“Well, I uh-I-I’m just following in your footsteps, getting fucked up when I want.” 

Hearing nothing behind him, he spoke again, praying they could keep the illusion going for just one more moment. 

“What?! It’s the truth! You were always getting drunk!” 

“At least I look good drunk.” 

“Jesus fuck, I don’t need you like this!” He ground out, trying to guide the drunken dream into a more positive light. 

“Well, this is what you get, kiddo…” 

“You’re not even real! I-I-I’m making this all up because I’m sad and drunk.” 

“Morty, I’m right here. I’m behind you.” 

He choked on his breath, feeling hope for a moment that he’d turn around and see his grandfather smiling back at him before realizing that this might be that couch Rick showing up again to bother him. Wiping his eyes, he turned around and glared at the cushion, seeing the scientist’s eyes boring into his own, lips drawn into a threaded frown. 

Unable to look at him, Morty faced forward again, holding onto the trashcan and breathing through his mouth to avoid the heart ache as much as the growing smell. 

“It doesn’t help that you-you only show up for the bad moments, making me feel crazier than I already am,” He sniffled, still feeling the tears come down and dampening his collar. 

“Morty… You’re not crazy.” 

He could feel his heart thumping loudly in his ears, the chance of kindness eating away at his starved emotions. 

“Awkward as fuck,” Rick corrected. “But not crazy.” 

He laughed in pain, shrugging and leaning over the trashcan again as he found the words to use. 

“Yeah? Well tell that to-to the entire school. They think I’m a broken nutcase or nothing at all, so yeah.” 

“Who gives a fuck what they say?” Rick growled, raising the hair of the teen’s skin with the deep tone. Why was the scientist so angry? It had nothing to do with him. Apparent from the party, it didn’t matter if he was attending school or not, people just didn’t want to be around him. 

“I... I do, Rick. I have no one else: not my family, not friends. All I have is the people from school, and I… I just… I need something.” He felt shattered now, utterly alone without his grandpa by his side. Without him, he had… nothing, at least nothing that mattered that much. Thinking back to the loss and how he couldn’t stop it, or how the man had to fuck it up for the both of them, he felt his stomach tense, making him barf again and make pained cries slip between heaves. 

“You never cared about that before…” 

“That’s because I had you, dumbass!” He screamed, done with all of this shit that made up his life now. He was drunk and couldn’t give a damn how that came off sounding. 

“Morty…” 

“No, I’m done with this. I’m not gonna have you lecture me about that-the stupidity of attachments in a fuckin’--a fucked up world. Just leave me the fuck alone.” 

Feeling dizzy with the smell of throw up and sheer drunkenness, Morty sprung up to his shaking legs and grabbed the garbage, flushing it down the toilet before heading upstairs and swallowing more sleeping pills, bartering with his tears to let him fall asleep. After a while, the wish was granted. 

\---

No matter the consequences: the reveal of him lying about being in Morty’s room or hinting at the depth that he cared, Rick had to make sure the kid was at least somewhat okay, the scientist immediately slinking up the stairs and back into the bedroom lamp. 

Thankfully, his impulsiveness hadn’t fucked it up too bad, and Morty was asleep by the time he got up there; cheeks wet and shirt half unbuttoned. It bothered Rick to see he boy looked pained, even in his sleep, and that it was all his damn fault, as it always was, hurting the one he cared most about in every possible way.

It almost made Rick wonder if it would be better for him to disappear and leave the boy alone before he let himself get distracted by a pale scar peeking out from the fabric of his shirt. Bending the lamp neck forward to get a better look at the thin mark on that jutting clavicle, he recalled the warm night just few months before when he’d wiped Morty’s tears and gave him one pull of his flask to help him through the pain of stitching that still bleeding wound, those hickory eyes brimming with trust as the boy gently held his coat through it and never once complained. Although he felt guilty about it, it was still one of the scientist’s favorite memories, a time when he thought for just a moment, Morty might love him. Confirming once again that he really was just a sick fuck.  

“Rick…!” 

Quickly snapping the lamp neck in the opposite direction, Rick closed his eyes to conceal his presence, thinking the words had been said as Morty woke up. But after hearing his breath still slow and labored, he glanced back over to his grandson and smiled sadly. He should never have been so rude about his sleep talking, jabbing the boy about it no less than 47 times and complaining when he knew the other was self-conscious.  _ Sick fuck _ . 

“Please, don’t leave me,” Morty choked out, making what would’ve been the scientist’s heart quiver with its gentle brokenness, something close to guilt lingering with the retrospect. 

How badly had he fucked this kid up? He tried to make him rely on him and need him around, but he didn’t mean to… destroy him in the process, isolating him from the people he actually wanted in his life like other kids his age. Was that really how he showed he loved his grandson? 

“Never will, Morty.” With a sad sigh, he left the room for a second time, thinking he’d really have to step up if he wanted to help Morty.

\---

Considering how drunk he was last night, Morty was surprised that the hangover headache wasn’t too bad. But he supposed he did throw most of it up when he got home…Shrugging it off, he climbed out of bed and peeled his clothes the rest of the way off, changing into some more comfortable pajamas to lounge around the house in. No reason for real clothes when he had nowhere to be…  

Walking over to the bathroom to comb his hair and wash his face after the night before, he looked around, almost expecting to see Rick waiting nearby for him somewhere. As much as he hated to admit it, he wanted to see him again, even if it was just to argue. 

He finished washing up and using the bathroom with no incidents, letting his guard down before closing the mirror cabinet and shrieking when Rick shown in the shelves behind him. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!” 

He must have woken up after everyone else was gone for the day, hearing no response to the noises, and Rick reappearing so early. 

“I-If you don’t want people to find out, then stop trying to scare me, asshole!”

As if things were back to normal, Rick pulling shit to mess with Morty like he did, he smirked back at the brunet. 

“Well, sorry, Mr. Pussypants. I didn’t think you’d be so on edge after all these years.” 

Rubbing his temples, Morty turned around and stared at the wooden face head on, face scrunched in a scowl.  

“Fuck you. What do you want, Rick?” He grumbled, doing his best to withhold his curiosity. 

“We’re going on an adventure!” 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know its taken too long for me to post these BB projects. My life has kinda been the worst this past couple of months, so I will be updating these and hopefully some of my other stories this month or in February. There is also INCREDIBLE art of this chapter by Vanilla Morty (https://twitter.com/vanillamorty?lang=en) who I love as an artist and a person!! I will be adding it in the next few days when I figure out how to do so without a web link. Enjoy some couch fucking XD

“Excuse me?”

He should’ve expected Rick to follow him, he was the whole house for God’s sake, but he didn’t know what to do except run, making his way down the stairs and hissing under his breath with the sound of rustling from behind. Rick was at his heels, switching from being the carpet underfoot to the sofa pressed up behind him when he reached it. Whether in his mind or in the home, it seemed Morty had never been able to avoid his grandfather. 

“I said we got--we’re going on an adventure! Head down to the garage.” 

“I’m not going on-on an adventure with you,” Morty ground out, balling his fists at his sides. What they’d said last night was still fresh in his mind, and he felt embarrassed, wanting to cower from Rick, but also unwilling to push his grandfather away anymore than he had already. 

“Why the fuck not? You-you-you’ve never refused before?” 

“Because I… I don’t want to…!” He stammered, less convinced in his words. “And besides, how do you even plan on getting us there?” The man may be a genius, but there wasn’t anything in the house to help him operate the portal gun. 

“If I didn’t have a plan, do you think I’d suggest it, dumbass?” Rick was just as snide as ever, working hard to show Morty how stupid he was. 

“I don’t know…” 

He should be more upset with Rick, following up on his lie that he hated him, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it, feeling his desire for some familiarity on an adventure or at least the sound of Rick’s voice nipping at his skull. 

“That’s right, you fucker, so let’s go.” 

“I said I’m not going with you,” The teen tried to say with more insistence; not that it even mattered when Rick was being all the more insistent for him.  

The scientist transferred into the tv, stopping Morty in his tracks as he tried to turn it on and act distracted from his surrounding grandfather, face mildly irritated on the static screen. 

“Stop being such a pu--fucking baby and get ready!” 

Morty huffed, folding his arms over his chest as he moved back around the coffee table and toward the couch to pout. The resistance appeared childish, he was sure, but he had to do something to show Rick that he couldn’t just be thrown around, especially after everything the man had done. 

“What? You in heat or something? Can’t get outta the house without yo-your dick waving out?” He heard Rick pur, lip curled into a smirk as the display screen glitched behind him. The boy hated when his grandfather used taunts like that against him, feeling like he was being called out for shit he didn’t want the other to know. 

“What the fuck, Rick?!” 

“Don’t act so surprised,” He cooed. “I know you’re a horny little bastard. I-I bet you wish you’re-you could get as good a fuck as your grandpa Rick.” 

Blushing violently, Morty had to look off to the side, feeling like the scientist could see right through him and into his fucked up mind. That was way too close to the truth.

“You can’t fuck. You’re a fucking television!!” 

“You wanna bet, you lil slut?” 

Morty knew it’s nothing like he’d imagined. The two of them admitting their feelings for one another and then making love, but how could he pass up an opportunity of getting fucked by Rick? Though, he still didn’t know how that’d happen, not that he doubted his grandfather’s… skills, pajama pants already tenting. 

“You’re all talk, Rick.” Just because he wanted this didn’t mean he had to act like it. 

“Oh really?” And before Morty knew it, Rick was back in the couch, sliding forward and pulling the teen onto the cushions that smelled like the scientist much more than was okay for Morty and his almost hard length. 

“St-Stop, you asshole!”

The scientist only laughed, Morty feeling the soft vibrations behind him as the cushions and coils underneath began to work at his ass, kneading and parting his cheeks through the boy’s pajama bottoms.  

“Why? I’m proving a point,” He chuckled, curving an armrest inward and grazing over the front of the boy’s pants. “Are you horny?? You really are like a bitch in heat.” 

He couldn’t help the way his legs quivered at that haughty tone of voice and surprisingly arousing touch, feeling worn fabric nip at the exposed skin below the hem of his bunched shirt.  

He just vaguely grumbled that Rick should shut up, feeling a thick gather of wool darting from the makeshift mouth and lapping at the boy’s spine, causing his shirt to ride up even more than before. Closing his eyes, he could almost pretend it was Rick, focusing on the smell and the drawl of his deep voice. 

“I can stop if you want.” 

Morty’s eyes snapped open at that, turning to face the backrest and his grandfather’s face with worry of losing the contact, morphing the expression into one of determination. 

“No!” He stammered, hoping the anticipation wasn’t bleeding into his voice. “I-I-You were right. I got myself into this shit, and now I’m gone--I’ll prove you wrong!” 

He watched as Rick’s lips curved back into a smirk with his plea, the cushions enveloping the boy again and flipping him onto his stomach, eyes only able to peer back at the blue through the haze of his excitement. This might actually be happening. 

After a moment, he could feel the springs and stuffing beginning to move again, hiking the boy’s shirt up to his shoulders and running touches over the thin pants. Chills rose as more of his skin was exposed, and Morty couldn’t help the groan that left his parted lips when one of the springs caught on his erection. 

“Oh yeah, Morty? You-You think you’re a big, tough guy now that you-your grandpa’s changed his looks?” 

“Whatever,” He whined, toes curling in as the wool swiped over his pants and dipped below, fluffed strength scratching against his boxers and in between the covered cheeks. 

“You’ll see, you little slu-fuck. This is gonna be the best sex of your life.” 

Regardless of how ridiculous it sounded, Morty was inclined to believe that might be true. He’d blame the hormones and virginity for being so sensitive to the touch if it were. This had nothing to do with being attracted to his grandfather or a desperation to be touched by him... 

‘Wha-Whatev--” 

“Awe, see. Look at you gettin’ all hard for your grandpa. You must be a real horny fucker to be into this shit.” 

He groaned, a mix of frustration and pleasure rippling in his chest. With springs working over his dick, the swiveling tongue over his covered ring of muscle, and that gravelly voice talking beside him, it didn’t seem difficult to want more. 

“I’m a fuckin’ teenager. I-It’s not hard to get us worked up!” 

“Maybe if you’re a weak ass virgin,” He sniggered, finally getting down to Morty’s bare ass and letting the woolen tongue trace around the reactive pink hole. The teen could feel each of the little fibers wound together and swirling around his skin, the muscles contracting and moving underneath. 

He was whining into the cushion, feeling more springs tense and press against him, circling over his pert nipples and pushing back against him as he wriggled and rut into the contact. His whole body was being worked over, and he wanted more than anything to feel everything his grandfather could give him. 

Uncaring of the taunts and jabs the scientist was throwing at him, Morty slid down his pants and boxers the rest of the way, throwing them off the couch and burying his nose into the fabric to take in more of Rick’s scent, feeling drunk on the intense kick of whiskey that was spilled into the couch a while back. 

“Alright, if you-you’re so determined, Rick, prove your fucking point!” He babbled into the right cushion, parting his legs to give the scientist more surface to work with. He could feel his body shuddering, thighs trembling as the efforts increased, and teeth digging into his lip as he tried not to cry out. A coil rose just under the fabric and scratched like nails along his dripping cock, and Morty groaned, gripping the armrest tight between his fingers. 

“Hooo boy, you’re so fuckin’ wet, Morty,” Rick… groaned? That couldn’t be right. “You’re gonna have to clean this shit up later.” The scientist curled the cushions back around the boy, holding him tight as he curled his tongue around the base of Morty’s cock. 

“Fuuuuck, Rick!” 

Thank God everyone was out of the house or else Morty would be done for, making these sounds while presumably alone and on the couch, tv off and phone on the floor. 

“And look at your pretty--tiny little asshole. It-It’s so small, I bet you couldn’t have taken my dick if you tried.” 

“Fuck yeah I could’ve!” 

He prayed that wasn’t too obvious, willing his mind into believing that Rick viewed it as stupid competitiveness rather than a cry to prove the scientist wrong. After a few months of wanting Rick, Morty had purchased a plug to prep in case he ever got the chance, feeling proud of how he’d worked up to taking it without whining as it stretched him out. However, that was before the fiasco, so Morty had gone at least six weeks without practice beyond three fingers. 

“Oh yeah?” Rick drawled, tapping the wool back against the fluttering entrance. “Then turn the fucking couch over. I’ll be right back.” 

If he’d given it more thought, considered who he was dealing with, or tried even a bit to pull his mind away from his dick, he might’ve thought to question, but of course he didn’t. Instead, he went right to the task, climbing off the couch and turning it onto it’s back as he saw carpet Rick slither up the stairs and into his abandoned room. 

The temptation to touch himself was biting, Morty only an inch away from doing it before his grandpa reanimated the couch, and a bottle of aqua lube was thrown at him. 

“Best in the galaxy, kid. It-It’s got shit that kills any infections and bacteria on it, and makes your orgasm even better.” 

Not knowing if he was supposed to slick himself up, rub it over his entrance, or what, Morty stood for a moment, worrying his lip as he tried to figure it out. If it had just been Rick’s dick, as he’d hoped, this would have been so much easier. 

“Wha-Wha-What do you want me to do with this?” He whined, looking at the upturned couch and tapping his foot on the ground as the need for release battered around his chest. 

“Touch yourself. Spread-Stretch your fuckin self out.” 

“But, Rick--” 

“Trust me, Morty, you’re gonna need it.” 

Not knowing where this was going and feeling embarrassment beginning to slither into his veins at being seen, he just got to the task, not wanting to waste another moment or make Rick disappear again. Coating three of his fingers in the cool gel, Morty could already feel it tingling on his skin, hand moving with a slight hum. In the hopes of being more appropriate, he turned his backside away from his grandfather before bending over and using his free hand to spread his--

“Turn around.” 

“What? Why??” The boy cried, not sure why his grandfather was intent on humiliating him so many times this morning. 

“I need to make sure you-you don’t fuck it up! You’re a virgin with a scattered brain right now, so I have to keep an eye on you.” 

Rolling his eyes and hesitating to take a calming breath, Morty bit his lip and turned to face the blank tv, hunching back over and using a shaking hand to part his cheeks before dipping three fingers inside. 

The fit was tight, his muscles inside holding him still before responding to whatever was in the lube and becoming more pliable, his whole body vibrating with need. Taking the opportunity, Morty began gathering and parting his fingers, twirling them inside and thrusting his body back to take them in deeper. If he could see his grandfather, the lustful haze over his eyes and slack of his lips would have caught his attention. But of course that wasn’t the case. 

“Can I sto--” 

“Use your thumb and two fingers,” Rick commanded, clearing his throat and staring from his convenient viewing position as Morty drew his fingers away from the clenching ring of muscle. 

Deciding not to speak for fear of fucking up, the teen did as he was told, breathing through the pulse of pleasure and sticking the digits back in, panting as they worked the boy as lax as they could. 

“Okay, now what?” 

Before Morty could even pull his fingers away, words were tumbling out of Rick’s lips. 

“Put your hands on the table and fuck onto a foot of the couch.” 

Was this real? Was Morty actually going to get fucked by a couch? Sure, it was Rick, the guy he’d been chasing after for years, but it was still the family couch, for Christ’s sake. It was nothing he’d ever expected to happen. Focusing on the words that had bothered him in the past, he closed his eyes and honed in on his screaming need, grabbing the bottle of lube and giving the left leg a thorough coat, massaging it into the round foot and using a finger to get the edges of the curved design claws. It was even bigger than his plug had been, but now that only seemed like a source of excitement rather than worry. 

_ Just don’t think about it. _

Doing his best to heed the advice, and think back to his instincts and desires, the teen bent over, gripping one hand on the table, and guiding himself back with the other. Pressing up against the slicked wood, he drew in a deep breath and pushed out, taking the round in at a painfully slow pace. 

“Fuuuck, Rick,” He groaned, taking a moment to adjust once it was all inside. 

His rim was stretched and ached, his slicked muscles inside confused and pulsing with the unfamiliar stimulation. It all made him want to babble about how it hurt like hell and was weird until he felt the appendage begin gyrating inside, swiping over his prostate as it made its rounds. 

“Holy shit, Rick--plea--fuck.” He couldn’t start begging now, knowing that would be the end of him, and narrowly redirected. 

If he had the capacity to worry about it more, he would, but with his body screaming in pleasure, it was hard to give a shit about anything but cumming. 

“Yeah, Morty? What’d you say? Did I hear something about my fucking abilities being subpar?” 

It was another trap, he was sure. If he were to lie and deny it, Rick would likely edge him until he wept, but it was also difficult to swallow his pride and admit that it was amazing. Relying back on the idea that the other saw this as nothing more than satiating a teenage boner, he stammered out his response. 

“Just let me cum, you asshole!” He was close, and if the wood kept vibrating and swirling over his greedy walls, it’d be over in a matter of minutes. 

“Y’know, I’m actually kinda proud of you, Morty. You’re taking grandpa’s wooden cock like a little virgin champ.” 

Hearing a twisted repeat of his praise kink fantasy, the teen immediately climaxed, hot release painting over the carpet and table. He cried out in ecstacy, his lungs quaking as Morty huffed and squirmed through harsh aftershocks, Rick still buried deep inside and swiveling against him. 

More essence spilled out of the spent cock, and gathering all the strength from his quitting body, he pulled away and fell face-first into the carpet. 

“I told you I was a good fuck. Now clean yourself up and get your ass in the garage before I-I prove you--to you what else I can do to you, piece of shit.”

**Author's Note:**

> Nice comments and kudos are appreciated ^_^ 
> 
> GO LOVE THE ARTISTS 
> 
> (And if you show up here just to throw shade at the content or the ship, just leave silently. You have the ability to blacklist ships and tags, and if you show up here just to tell me you hate it then I'm going to wonder why you are malicious and also if you can read bc I left you this message and the site tells you you can blacklist)


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